


Dead Fires and the Lonely Spark

by Xalatath



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, League of Legends RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Feelings Realization, Friendship, Gen, M/M, New Year's Eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:02:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28289634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xalatath/pseuds/Xalatath
Summary: All these years, people looked at Luka in different ways: with envy, mockery, lust, but no one ever looked at him like that.
Relationships: Luka "PerkZ" Perković/Rasmus "Caps" Winther
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20
Collections: DreamServer Secret Santa





	Dead Fires and the Lonely Spark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reynee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reynee/gifts).



> Dear Reyne! Merry Christmas <33
> 
> Big kudos to Sandra and Mira for their help with my fic <3 ilu, peeps  
> English is not my first language, so I want to apologize for all the stylistic mistakes in my fic.

He was awakened by the smell of fresh bread, warm and slightly sweet. Luka rolled onto the other side, stubbornly refusing to open his eyes. He wanted to keep himself asleep for a little longer, although he guessed that one of the younger brothers would now come running into the room and start jumping and laughing on his bed, trying to drive Luka off it. But in the meantime he could still lie for a little bit under the blanket, which was pulled up to the very top. And being in the position like this, not even Luna would have been able to drive him out of there.

  
  


Out of habit, he put his hand out from the blanket to stroke Luna, who as usual was sleeping on his bed, beside him. But his fingers stumbled upon emptiness. The sheet was cold under his palm. This made him open his eyes and throw back the blanket, confused.

The smell of bread was still in the air. It was not part of his dreams, but other than that...

Luka sat up, looking around. He was still in his bedroom in the house on the street of  The Victors' Village , in a house that Luka stubbornly refused to consider his own. The pale blue walls, on which were hung uncomplicated watercolor landscapes, have seen more than one tribute who was lucky enough to survive before him. And how many will live here after him?

_ More than one if you stop. _

He got out of the bed, dressed quickly. Luka did not feel anxious - he had nothing to fear. If someone wanted him dead, he would simply not be allowed to wake up. Someone was in his house and he could only hope that this was not one of the Ender’s surprises. This year, he managed to convince Ender that he absolutely did not want to be on the screens in the Capitol, that besides him there were other winners. And Ender even agreed, noting that the Capitol was already getting tired of Perkz. Of course, it was in Ender's nature - when not getting what he wanted, he stabbed in response something offensive like a needle.

But Luka was not offended. After many years, there was finally a thing that Luka could share with the Capitol.

He, too, was tired of Perkz, the undefeated Arena Champion.

He didn't want to think about next year. Technically, the upper age limit for Tributes ended in eighteen years, but after the years since the Revolution, the rules of the Harvest have changed. The top bar was pushed back to twenty years, which means he had two more years left. For four years he volunteered. For four years he became the winner. The Capitol was tired of him, so Luka was ready for anything by going downstairs and heading into the kitchen.

He was ready for anything, but not for Rasmus, who was sitting at the table, swinging his legs and drinking cocoa from a large blue mug, as if nothing had happened.

“Luka!” his face, which was usually smeared with soot or flour, looked unusually clean now, the protruding hair was neatly combed. He wore an ironed shirt and his boots were polished. And in general, Rasmus looked festively smart and should have been at home with this look now, with his family, at a festive breakfast, and not in his kitchen.

“I baked New Year’s bread for you.” He added, smiling broadly.

Luka followed his gaze with his own and saw a loaf standing on the cooking table. A bread with braided edges and a ruddy glossy crust. Yes, here it is, the bread of the new year, which had to be broken into even eighths and was still warm. And if you came across a bean in one of them, then your wish made on New Year's Eve would certainly come true.

The last time he ate New Year's Eve bread when he was a child, but then…

Carlos did not know how to bake bread and the money that they got from illegal poaching was enough for them only for the most necessary things, because the inhabitants of the Hob, just like a century ago, had not a lot of free money. Sometimes they did not have money at all, but there was always something in exchange for a duck or a bunch of small doves, so that neither Luka nor his guardian was hungry and cold. Another thing is that they did not have excesses, but people in the Twelfth District always managed to live without them.

“Thank you,” he didn’t want to look rude or ungrateful, especially since he had someone who Luka could really call his friend here, it was Rasmus, but his surprise was too great.

He used to be alone on the first morning of the New Year. It’s true, the last four years he had been accompanied by Ender and his meticulous film crew, but it was not a pleasant company. Every year Luka thought that he was seeing them for the last time, because these Games would certainly be the last for him, but…

“Sorry, I should have warned you, but then there would have been no surprise!’’

“To be honest, I hate surprises,” Luka said, but when he saw Rasmus’ wide smile slowly disappear from his face, he hastened to add. “Because usually they are... not good. But not yours. Is there even a bean there? In the bread?”

“Of course! I brought a few with me. There's also a key and a pebble, you know, for a new home and a good road, so you don't have to limit yourself to just a bean for a New Year’s wish. I baked everything. And a coin, and also…” Rasmus stopped under his attentive gaze and blushed. “You will have to eat very carefully so as not to break a tooth by accident.”

“Usually the bread is shared between family members, but okay,” Luka pulled back a chair and sat down opposite Rasmus. He diligently beg an to look past and Luka remembered that he was only wearing pajama pants. Rasmus tried his best not to look at his scars - evidence of his victories in the Arena and all those unfortunate times when he fell into the traps of Carlos in order to steal his prey from him until the moment when Carlos latter was tired of all this so much that he offered him to become partners in his hunts.

“There’s no one here but you and me.”

“Well, Ender can always come. I'm not sure if I could convince him not to come today. But if he comes tomorrow, then neither he nor his group can escape from the New Year's loaf.”

Rasmus quieted down again after that.

Luka was still trying to figure out what had brought him to his house at such an early hour. At the time like this, Rasmus was dozing off in his bed or sneaking into the living room of his parents' house - towards the New Year's tree, where gifts were hidden under the lower leaves.

He shouldn't have been here.

"I..." Rasmus began and then stopped. Luka shivered and thought that maybe he should still go up to the bedroom to take a shirt or at least put on a blanket over himself. His house, of course, was put in order before he moved into it because before Luka,  The Victors' Village of the Twelfth District had been empty for several decades, but most of the renovation was cosmetic. In winter, even in spite of the heating, there were drafts around his house and Luka could have asked for reparation or repair the cracks in the windows and walls by himself, but he simply didn’t do anything about it. Every winter he endured all this, thinking that next year he would no longer be here.

He will lose, he will be dead.

“You?”

“I made a wish, Luka, and look!’’ With that, Rasmus reached into his shirt pocket and then held out his hand to the bow. A bean was laying in the palm of his hand. Luka raised his eyebrows and looked questioningly at Rasmus. He really wanted to ask what he has to do with it.

“I got a bean. In my piece of bread. My wish will come true,” Rasmus met his gaze and said with firm determination in his voice. “I will win the next Hunger Games instead of you.”

Luka laughed, slapped himself on the knees and shook his head. And then, his face turned serious and he said very quietly and calmly:

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Luka, but you... you didn't think what would happen if you... couldn't do it anymore? Pa’ says that you are still being guided... that you volunteer over and over because you really want to see your family again, but…’’

Rasmus stopped short because he was entangled in his words like a newborn foal tangled in its legs. He clenched his fists and looked at his confused look, his mouth stretched out in a determined line and Luka suddenly caught himself thinking that maybe…

_ No, don’t even think about it. _

“I want to save you one day because,” Rasmus's voice dropped to a whisper. “You saved me. And I know that I can do it too if you teach me everything that you know. Yes, I know, I’m merely a son of a baker, and you are a poacher, so you knew more when you got to the Arena, like setting traps, and you knew how to shoot, but I do learn quickly. All the teachers in the school told me about that.’’

“I will not teach you.”

“You’ll have to teach me,” Rasmus seems to have gathered all his courage and his voice was filled with the challenge. “Because I will volunteer for the next Harvest, Luka. And you will become a mentor, as you should.”

Luka met his gaze again and thought that this time Rasmus will again give up the slack and turn away. He was staring at the mug, doing something, realizing what kind of stupidity he had shown.

Four years ago, Frosk pulled out a piece of paper with Rasmus' name on it. This is Rasmus - the little and disheveled son of the baker who was supposed to represent their District at the next Hunger Games.

The lot always bypassed Luka.

His family died in the fire that engulfed the district after the mine explosions. The fire burned out almost the entire the Hob, and the quarter where prosperous families of merchants and artisans lived. There was not a single family that was not affected by the grief of loss. Mourning white ribbons hung on the shutters of all the surviving houses.

He was just lucky then... Or not - that's how you look at it. On that day, Luka, as usual, fled into the forest, towards evening, in order to catch the owl. Mom was allergic to cat hair and the rats who lived in the kitchen of the mine cafeteria she kept had completely lost their fear to them that year. The old miners saw this as a bad sign - something was driving the rats from under the ground into people's houses.

But no one listened to them. And that turned out very bad for the people.

Luka was awakened by mockingjays, who was attracted to the tree in the hollow of which he dozed. They laughed in dozens of voices, imitating the voices of the people they had heard near the forest and Luka, while still being sleepy, thought that the guards had found him and now they will shoot him for poaching. Then it scared him. For the next couple of years, he will wait for a meeting with them, a meeting with his lot at the Harvest...

But death, that took his entire family on this night, on which Luka went to fetch an owl for his mother's cafeteria, was in no hurry to meet him.

On that Harvest, when Frosk called Rasmus' name, Luka, as always, indifferently watched the show, standing among the gloomy crowd of the people of the Hob. When the name of the baker's son was named, the people around him sighed with relief. One more year when their children will stay alive and continue to be with their family. Someone else's grief was nothing for them.

And Luka…

Hell, he didn't know what pushed him to volunteer instead of Rasmus. Maybe the hubbub of relief around him, maybe the whitened face of the older Winthers, who had always been kind to Luka and to the others people in need. Something flashed in his head, because he realized that Rasmus took away his right to die, not in his own field, but…

“I- I volunteer!”

He had to shout it with all his might, jump in place and wave his arms to get attention. 

For the last couple of years, Luka has been growing like a weed - without a purpose, living as he does, hoping that either the Harvest or the guards will take his life.

He wanted to be with his mother and brothers again, he wanted to wake up next to Luna, he wanted to see his father, whom he did not remember at all - he left before everyone else, when Luka was a baby.

Of course, things didn't go as he planned. But Luka came out again and again, convincing himself that if anyone should die in the Arena from their District, that should be him.

If his death saves several children from his village…

Well, it is not bad.

“I want to pay you back.’’

“You don't owe me anything.” Luka said, feeling his resolve begin to wane.

“This is all… wrong. There was a time when the Games were canceled! I know there is a way to stop them again, but sitting here I will not do anything!”

“You’re not doing anything in the Capitol either. Get it out of your head.”

“Yes, but… Luka, year after year you save us by invoking the Tribute over and over again, but this is your last year and we can… try to save everyone else… I... Damn, I can't just sit here and do nothing while knowing that I owe you my life, we all do. Can't you hear what other people are saying?’’

“No,” Luca said firmly. After Carlos fled to the Capitol, only Rasmus could be considered his friend here, but as for the rest…

And at that instant Rasmus took his hands in his. A hot blush appeared on his face. His gaze darted.

“Let me…”

He did not finish the sentence.

_ Let me help you, _ Rasmus’ eyes spoke instead of him, _ let me save you, pay you back, let me do something for you. _

All these years, people looked at Luka in different ways: with envy, mockery, lust, but no one ever looked at him like that.

With love.

Well, of course. The rescued person begins to love his savior. How many songs have been written about this?

Luka has heard enough.

His throat tightened from the inside. He thought Rasmus was sick - he shouldn't have fallen in love with a walking dead man.

And yet…

Luka heard a lot of things in the Capitol. People were unhappy. The Hunger Games entertained a small but powerful class of its inhabitants. They continued to keep the Districts in fear and obedience, but…

Ordinary citizens, who were much more numerous than the patrician Capitolians, were unhappy.

All you needed was a spark, and if you are destined to burn out anyway, why not take this whole world with you? After all, if your family, like dozens of others, were not tightly attached to your District and could choose their own destiny, none of this would have happened.

You would not be sitting here with Rasmus on the first day of the new year, thinking about the last Revolution, which never changed anything.

“Let me think. At least for a couple of days.’’

Rasmus almost clapped his hands.

“Thank you!” His face beamed with a smile. “Thank you, I... I will not let you down. I promise you, Luka. You will see.”

His warm lips pressed against the corner of Luka's mouth, and Luka tried not to notice how much his own heart clenched at that moment.

The thought he had in mind smelled like madness, but for a strong fire, a spark accidentally dropped into the dead wood would be enough.

In a slice of a New Year's bread he came across a bean and Luka made the same wish as Rasmus.

He wanted to believe it.


End file.
